


footnote.

by towards



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-17 23:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towards/pseuds/towards
Summary: The stick says Better Luck Next Time.





	footnote.

If she closes her eyes and tunes them out, she can hear waves crash against the soft sandy shores of a faraway land. The sound is as rich and vivid as if she was standing there on the shore herself, digging her toes in damp sand as if she could become one with the Island itself.

Here, in Twilight Town, seated with her two best friends - she can’t shake the feeling that she’s somewhere else. That she is someone else, in another time, in another place. Three friends watch the sunset together. Three friends, knowing that the next day held something bigger than they could even imagine. The hooded figure’s words echo in her mind - she is a *sham*, a liar, something other than who she stands before him as.

Isn’t that absurd?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

How long ago had she thought that? How long… How long ago had she believed her life to be truly her own. How long had it last been before the truth had become apparent, the knowledge that her existence caused a schism that could not be healed while she lived. Xion nibbles at the end of her stick, staring down at the people scurrying about their busy lives. Wondering what each was thinking, what each life held… What promise their futures held for them. How people would remember them, what those people thought of them.

“Hey, Xion. Did you win something?” Roxas’ voice startles her out of her reprieve. That’s right, there’s a contest going on with these… The girl draws the stick out of her mouth, glancing down at the letters written on it.

The stick says Better Luck Next Time.

“I think,” she says finally, slowly standing, “I’m going to go home early.”

She has too much to think about and too little time to wait for a next time.

(2)

"Do you think you truly have friends? Do you think they'll come for you?"

The man before he looks like Xemnas. Younger, colder, but still surely him. He watches her with folded arms, remembering her for what she is but not who.

“I do.” Underneath the darkness of her hood, the girl looks away. Considers, perhaps, that the reverse will not be the same. She is a ghost, created from the Darkness and the memories of a boy, a specter made real by the friendship of two boys. Not once in all her time here has she removed her hood - the face she’s certain she would wear is neither Sora, nor her own. Her existence is unstable, her appearance relying solely upon other people. It’s something that she has believed since waking up in this dark place.

She holds out a hand, palm up, fingers curled loosely inward.

“There’s Kairi, Riku, Donald and Goofy… And the King, of course.” With each name, she lifts a finger. Slowly revealing the dark blue shell, foreign to these dark shores, resting on the crease of her palm.

“And…”

A heavy pause cuts through the list. A glance to her other hand, she hesitates. The number of hearts Sora has touched are infinite, he has known so many and changed so much. His friends are innumerable, the warmth he brings impossible for anyone to replicate. Even saying his name inspires faith, trust, and invokes hope and the possibility for change… but there’s something else. Her hand closes around the shell, draws it to her chest and rests it where she knows a heart surely beats.

To feel joy… to feel pain… That’s what it means to have a heart. Even if they don’t know her, even if she’s little more than a footnote that was lost in the revisions…

She’s still her.

And she knows that they will come for her. Axel had promised to always bring her back, and Roxas had promised that they would all eat ice-cream again one day… and Namine would set things right, no matter what.

The puppet turns, the hood slips back just enough to reveal her face. Lips and nose perhaps too similar to another’s before shifting ever so faintly, settling into features that are distinctly hers. A heart strong enough to remember its own memories, a face prominent enough to be shown without relying upon the links in the hearts of others. The smile that she wears is brighter than the sun, full of hope and promise. She is Xion. Not Sora, not a puppet, and not a tool to be used and cast aside.

And she is whole.

“And Namine, Axel, and Roxas. Those are my very best friends. And they're coming for you, Xehanort. Just you wait."


End file.
